Snow Drift
by StarBellySneetch
Summary: After sliding off the road, Booth and Brennan are trapped in their SUV to wait out a snow storm. Freezing and frightened, they do their best to help one another survive the ordeal.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Bones and all its characters belong to Fox.

As the falling snow turned into sheets of ice that clung to the windshield of the SUV, Special Agent Seeley Booth wondered if they shouldn't have waited it out at the hotel after all. He could barely make out the road any longer- he wasn't sure if that was due to the fact that the falling sheets of ice were blocking his vision or due to the fact that the road was now covered by nearly a foot of snow. Either way, he was having some serious second thoughts.

To his right in the passenger seat, Dr. Temperance Brennan seemed to be having similar misgivings. She was clutching the handle above the door tightly and her face reciprocated the worry Booth was feeling. Neither of them were angry- after all, they had both agreed to try and make it to the airport that night.

Cases in Alaska were as rare as they were interesting, and neither Brennan nor Booth had any objections to coming to Alaska. A body had been found in the wilderness, mutilated by wolves. Booth and Brennan did what they did best, and by the end of the week, they had determined that the bullet wound was a result of a hunting accident, and arrested the guilty hunter for manslaughter.

With their work done, they were ready to leave. But when they returned to the hotel, the weather report was grim and they were left with two options: wait the storm out and risk the possibility of being stuck in the town for another couple of days, or risk the drive to the airport. Since it was soon to be Booth's weekend with Parker and Brennan had an important meeting coming up, they both decided it was in their best interest to risk the drive.

Now, with the sharp sound of ice hitting the windows and the cold howl of the wind causing the SUV to tremble, they were both feeling like they had made the wrong decision. Booth's knuckles were white on the steering wheel. For every inch the SUV crept along, the wind blew it twelve inches in the opposite direction.

"Booth..." Brennan began shakily. "We should turn back."

Booth spared a quick glance her way.

"At this point I'm not sure it will make any difference," Booth told her over the wind. "I think by now we're farther away from the hotel than we are from the airport."

Seeing the truth in this, Brennan fell quiet and allowed Booth to concentrate on driving. Booth sat up straight with his shoulders and arms tense. He peeked at Brennan once or twice to make sure she was buckled in securely. They were in a bad situation, and he felt like an idiot for putting her in danger.

No sooner did the thought cross his mind, that he felt the tire slide beneath him.

"Shit!" he cursed, fighting for control of the SUV.

But the wheels seemed to have a mind of their own. Booth resisted the temptation to slam on the brakes, knowing that would only make it worse. Quickly he shifted the gear into neutral, steadily pumping the brakes with his foot. It seemed to work for a moment, but then they were sliding backwards.

"Booth!" Brennan exclaimed, bracing herself.

He reached out, his arm securing her small frame against the back of the seat. His other arm held himself in place, while he put the car back into drive, his foot pushing the gas in attempt to counteract their backwards descent.

His yells and Brennan's screams reverberated through the SUV as it spun sideways. It balanced for a brief second on its two left tires before flipping over completely. The vehicle was tumbling down a steep incline.

It all happened so fast that Booth's mind could barely process what was happening. He could hear metal crunching and skidding against the icy snow. He could feel his partner's small body under his arm straining against the seatbelt that was barely managing to keep her in the seat. He could see the white world outside go upside down and right side up over and over.

Then it was over. It took Booth a moment to realize that the SUV has finally come to a stop- luckily, resting on its four wheels rather than on its roof. His heart beat pounded in his ears. He was gulping in breath after breath, adrenaline coursing through his veins. It wasn't until he felt two hands feebly pushing against his arm that he realize he was still crushing Brennan against her seat.

"You okay Bones?" he gasped out, lowering his arm.

She too, seemed to be having trouble catching her breath.

"I think so," she replied between gulps of air.

Booth unbuckled his seatbelt, wincing at the cutting pain it had inflicted on his shoulder. His head hurt from being flipped around like a hotcake, but otherwise he felt alright. Beside him, Brennan was fumbling with her own seatbelt, but her hands were shaking so badly, she was barely making any progress.

"Let me." Booth said gently, pushing her hands away.

Her seatbelt had become jammed during the accident. Booth wiggled it back and forth carefully until it finally yielded. As the seatbelt snapped back into place, Booth grimaced at the angry red marks it had left across Brennan's collar bone. He touched the marks lightly with his fingertips.

"That's going to bruise Bones..." he said quietly. "Does it hurt?"

She shook her head, seemingly unable to verbalize an answer. Booth noticed that while his system seemed to be slowing down from the adrenaline rush, Brennan seemed to be doing the opposite. Her fingers clutched the sides of her seat tightly and she squeezed her eyes shut. Her poor, bruised chest moved up down with her rapid breaths.

Booth took a minute to evaluate the situation. The SUV was more or less intact, but they seemed to have landed in a snow drift, and the doors were blocked in by layers of snow and ice. It was almost as though they were buried. A sudden realization swept through Booth and he moved closer to his partner, who seemed to be hyperventilating.

"Bones...hey Bones," he intoned softly. "Just look at me for a second okay?"

Brennan shook her head rapidly, refusing to open her eyes. Without thinking, Booth reached out and cupped her face between his hands, turning it gently towards him.

"Temperance, look at me," he said.

Her eyes snapped open and immediately became darting around the confined spaces of the SUV. Her pupils were dilated with fear, leaving a much thinner ring of blue than normal. The tension in her face reminded Booth of a trapped animal- wild with panic and desperation.

"You're fine," he told her firmly. "We're both fine."

Booth waited to allow the words to sink in. He gently stroked her cheek with his thumb. Slowly, her eyes focused on his own.

"I'm fine," she repeated shakily.

Her body seemed to relax slightly. Booth reluctantly removed his hands from her face and allowed her to sink back into her seat. Sighing, he leaned against his own seat, eyes still on her. Her breathing was still ragged, but she seemed to have overcome panic that seized her when she realized she was buried alive once again.

"You okay now, Bones?" Booth asked.

She nodded.

"I'm okay," she replied. "Thanks Booth."

He shrugged it off with a smile, knowing how much Brennan hated to be seen vulnerable. Even as close as they were, it was still a rare moment that Booth ever saw her lose control. Booth had spent years in the military, as a Ranger, as a sniper, and still, she was one of the bravest people he knew. He watched as she sat up straight and began analyzing their predicament.

"What do we do now?" she questioned, her face scrunching up in concentration.

_That,_ Booth thought, _is an excellent question._


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Fox owns Bones and all its characters.

**A/N: **Big thanks to all who reviewed. I have no room to ask anyone to review since I hardly ever review myself, but it really is a nice encouragement. So thanks! Hope you enjoy this one too.

* * *

The two partners sat face to face in the backseat of the SUV, their multiple bags in between them. From their personal bags, they had managed to scrounge up two cell phones without service, a half-eaten Milkyway bar, an old pack of airline peanuts, and a bottle of soda that had gone flat. They both frowned at the unappetizing provisions and zipped up their bags, throwing them back in the trunk. 

"Alright," Booth said, rubbing his hands together. "I bet we'll find some good stuff in here."

With a flourish, he lifted up a large black duffel with the FBI logo on it. Brennan arched her eyebrow at him.

"You mean you don't know what's inside?" she asked him amusedly.

Booth shrugged as he unzipped.

"It's FBI protocol that every agent stores one in their car," he explained. "I have a pretty good idea of what's inside, but I can still hope for beer and tortilla chips, right?"

He flashed a smile at her and she rolled her eyes, plunging her hand into the bag and pulling something out. He did the same.

"What do you got Bones?" he asked as Brennan withdrew her hand.

"Can of beans..." she said, wrinkling her nose. "How about you?"

Booth pulled his hand of the bag and showed her a flashlight. He clicked it on and wiggled the light across her face.

"Flashlight," he replied, laughing as she snatched it out of his hand. "Throw the beans into our sad little food pile."

She did as he asked while he began digging around in the bag again.

"Look, Bones!" he exclaimed. "A camera."

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Brennan gave him a sour look and pulled something out of the bag herself.

"Look, Booth!" she replied mockingly. "A pocketknife!"

She dangled it in front of his face threateningly. He frowned in teasing disappointment.

"Geez, Bones... way to suck the fun out of everything," he moped, throwing the camera into the trunk with the rest of the other useless items.

Brennan chuckled and put the knife down next to the flashlight. Booth was sifting through the bag again.

"Hey Bones, check it out- rope!" he said, presenting a tightly compact coil of braided rope.

"Don't even say it Booth..." Brennan warned, her tone dark.

Booth put his hands up defensively.

"Whoa Bones!" he replied. "_Now_ who's the one with the dirty mind?"

She ignored him, her hand now searching through the bottom of the bag. With a smile of triumph, she produced a folded blanket, a first-aid kit, and a package of flares. She placed them contently in the pile of useful items.

"You're only supposed to pull one thing out at a time..." Booth mumbled under his breath.

Brennan gave him a look and deposited the now empty bag in the trunk.

"I don't remember making rules," she bantered back.

They held the false pretense of annoyance for a few seconds before breaking into smiles. Their ability to make one another smile in the most dire situations never ceased to amaze them. The moment of levity, however, was short lived. The two began examining the little piles they made, carefully considering their limited resources.

"These flares burn for four hours each," Brennan stated, examining the label on the package.

Booth leaned closer to take a look at the flares.

"This is a pack of ten, so we should be able to keep a signal up for at least forty hours," he reasoned.

Brennan looked up from the package.

"You think it will take that long for someone to find us?" she pondered out loud, aware that Booth had no more idea than she did.

"I hope not," Booth replied lightly.

She nodded and used the pocketknife to open the package of flares. Conveniently, the package included a lighter. Booth grabbed the flare.

"We should set one out now," he suggested.

Booth and Brennan climbed over the seats and back into the front. They looked out their respective windows. Snow was packed tightly around most of the window but on both sides, the snow stopped about six inches before the top. Booth began rolling down his window and squatting on his seat in preparation to climb out. Brennan gaped at him.

"You don't think you're fitting through there do you?" she asked him, incredulous.

Booth shrugged.

"Sure, why not?"

Brennan grasped his shirt and yanked him down hard. She quickly snatched the flare and lighter out of his hands.

"That's _ice_ coated on top of the snow Booth," she said matter-of-factly. "You'll cut yourself to shreds trying to squeeze through. I'm much smaller, I'll do it."

Before Booth could protest, Brennan had rolled her window down half a foot and had wiggled herself out the window up past her shoulder blades. Booth sighed and muttered under his breath about her hardheadedness. She placed her feet on the seat and used her legs to push herself out to the middle of her back. Then she was still for a minute, obviously setting up the flare.

"Uh, Booth..." her voice was loud but muffled.

Booth shifted closer, slightly uncomfortable that the only part of her body he could address was her backside. He looked at the seat instead.

"You alright Bones?" he questioned, yelling so she could hear him.

"I, um..." she began awkwardly. "I got the flare lit but..."

"But?" Booth asked, positive that this was going to end up embarrassing both of them.

"I'm stuck," she stated.

Booth groaned and looked over at Brennan's bottom half sticking out the window.

"Just hold tight Bones..." he sighed. "I'll pull you out."

He stared for a second, trying to decide the best approach. He finally determined that there was virtually no part of her body that he could touch at the moment that would be considered appropriate. With a 'what-can-you-do' expression on his face, Booth threw all caution to the wind and placed his hands on her lower hips, tugging gently.

She _was_ stuck. As he tugged, she barely budged. Muttering under his breath, Booth fully wrapped his arms around her lower half, which left him with his face pressed against her backside. Doing his best to ignore the situation, Booth yanked, and with a grunt of effort, Brennan was pulled through the window, and ended up sitting directly on Booth's chest.

Booth's breath came out in a strangled gasp as Brennan's weight knocked the air out of him. She got up quickly.

"S-sorry," she apologized through chattering teeth.

"Ouch..." Booth groaned. "Ugh, it's okay Bones."

He hauled himself into a sitting position, rubbing his sternum. He looked over to Brennan who was sitting in the passenger seat with her knees drawn to her chest, shaking visibly. Her hair had ice frozen in it and her shirt was wet from melted snow. There was a graze on her cheek from where it had scraped against the ice when Booth pulled her out.

"Geez Bones," Booth sighed.

Booth reached into the back to retrieve her bag. He ignored Brennan's feeble protest as he unzipped it and began digging through her things. He pulled out a tiny tank top and dangled it in front of Brennan.

"Planning on going to the beach Bones?" he asked pointedly. "Didn't you bring any clothes you can actually wear here?"

Brennan gave him a glare.

"G-give me my b-bag..." she chattered, unwrapping one arm from around herself to grab at the bag.

"Nope," Booth said lightly, placing the bag out of her reach.

Whatever Brennan was going to say was interrupted by a shiver that swept through her entire body. She stopped reaching for the bag and hugged herself tightly.

"If you insist g-going through m-my things..." she told Booth, shivering uncontrollably. "C-could you at l-least hurry up?"

Booth had a snappy comeback but withheld it when he saw that Brennan's lips were taking on a blue tinge. He quickly found her a simple, dry long sleeved shirt and tossed it over to her. He sifted through the bag some more to see if there was a sweat shirt or something to wear over it.

"Don't you have something warm to wear in here?" he asked exasperatedly "Hey- what's this?"

His tone conveyed amusement. Brennan looked up apprehensively. _Oh God..._ she thought, feeling a twinge of panic. _What has he found?_ But, when he pulled out the bottle of wine Angela had asked her to bring back, she merely rolled her eyes.

"You've been holding out on me Bones..." he scolded, wiggling the bottle in front of her face.

Brennan looked at him sternly.

"Th-thats n-not for us B-booth," she said, in her best no-nonsense voice.

Her chattering teeth were enough to steer Booth's thoughts from alcohol. He placed the bottle aside.

"We'll talk about it later," he told her. "You need to get out of those wet clothes."

Brennan nodded and began pulling off her shirt, exposing a length of pale stomach. Every inch of her skin was covered in goosebumps. Before pulling her shirt over her head, she paused.

"B-booth!" she exclaimed.

Booth's eyes snapped to her face from where they had been trailing up her bare skin.

"What?" he asked automatically.

Even trembling and half-dressed, Brennan's glare was no less poignant and scathing. Booth finally reconnected with his brain and realized he had been staring.

"Oh, right..." he said.

Cheeks burning, he looked away and began busying himself with the bags in the backseat. More amused than she was annoyed, Brennan finished changing.

"D-done," she told Booth.

He popped back into his seat, still not looking at Brennan even though she was now fully dressed. He handed over a large hooded sweatshirt.

"Put this on," he told her authoritatively.

It was proof of how cold Brennan was that she didn't protest. She pulled it over her head quickly. The sweatshirt was much too large, but it was warm and smelled faintly of Booth. The sleeves reached far past her hands, but her hands were so cold, she didn't bother to roll the sleeves up.

Booth finally got over his embarrassment enough to make eye contact again, and now he was looking at her critically. He reached over and yanked the hood up over her slightly damp hair. Still not satisfied, he grabbed the blanked from the backseat and wrapped it tightly around her shoulders. Now that her arms were effectively restrained, he took the time to examine the scrape on her cheek. Brennan jerked her face out of reach.

"Stop fussing Booth," she said crossly.

Her trembling had decreased significantly and her lips were back to their normal color, but Booth hushed her nonetheless. He gently held her chin between his two fingers and thumb and tilted her head to get a better look.

"Seems clean enough Bones," he told her, unsure exactly why he was whispering.

He traced the scrape lightly with his fingertips and almost unconsciously, Brennan leaned into the caress. For a minute, they both locked eyes, unable to look away. Booth's fingers trailed slowly down to her jawline. He leaned forward slightly- then hesitated.

As always, that brief hesitation was enough to break the trance. Clearing his throat, Booth removed his hand. Brennan looked away quickly. It wasn't as if they were unused to this type of thing. They had become so accustomed to it, that it was easy for them to return to safe ground quickly with limited awkwardness.

This was normally the point that Booth mentally reminded himself all the reasons why he could never initiate a romantic relationship with his partner but as he watched Brennan fiddle with the corner of the blanket, her cheeks tinged pink, he couldn't remember a single one of them.


	3. Chapter 3

Booth was quickly running out of ideas to keep himself entertained. For fifteen minutes he had tied every knot he knew into the rope, then tried to teach Brennan to tie them as well. She mastered the knots surprisingly quickly, but she still couldn't do them as fast or as well as Booth, which left her grumpy. She had put the rope down and announced she was going to do something productive- organize their paperwork. Booth had groaned and slumped in his seat.

While Brennan became absorbed in the paperwork, Booth had watched her, sitting up straight in her seat with her legs tucked underneath her. Her hair was curly and messy but seemed to be dry now. Booth's large sweatshirt made her look small and delicate, and Booth couldn't help but smile as she absently rolled up the sleeves that reached beyond her hands. He felt like he could watch her for hours, and felt slightly annoyed and a little bit hurt at her ability to completely ignore him.

But then, inspired by a childish streak of impulsivity, Booth had begun to roll up tiny paper balls from a paper Brennan had placed in the discard pile. Quietly, he flicked them at Brennan. Any paper ball landing in Brennan's hood he decided, would be worth ten points. If it went down the back of her shirt, twenty points and thirty points if he could get one to stick in her hair.

The game turned out to be quite entertaining. Booth had scored fifteen ten pointers, seven twenty pointers, and three thirty pointers. _Three-hundred and eighty points..._ Booth had thought gleefully. _Let's see if I can make it to five-hundred..._ Tongue between his teeth, he had aimed the next paper ball carefully at Brennan's hair, but she turned at the last second and the ball hit her square in the forehead. When she recoiled in surprise, several paper balls shook loose of her hair and hood.

Now, Booth was being punished with the silent treatment. He sighed loudly and dramatically, but Brennan stubbornly ignored him. The paperwork was neatly packed away in her bag and she now sat facing the window, her arms crossed across her chest. The silence in the SUV was driving Booth insane. He tried tapping his fingers against the dashboard, humming, then whistling to fill the silence, but the boredom was overwhelming.

"Bones," he said, reaching out to tap her shoulder. "Hey Bones, I'm bored."

Brennan stretched and yawned, leaning her head against the back of her seat as though he had never spoken. He groaned.

"Listen, I'm sorry about the paper balls Bones..." he wheedled.

A faint trace of a smirk appeared on her face but still, she ignored him.

"You can't ignore me forever Bones..." Booth sang. "Like it or not, you're stuck in this SUV for God knows how long with your favorite FBI agent."

He didn't have to see her face to know that his comment merited one of Brennan's famous eye rolls.

"Come on Bones, deep down you love this. We're all burrowed under the snow like happy little Eskimos..." Booth's voice was filled with barely contained laughter.

He craned his neck to peek around Brennan's body and saw the corners of her mouth beginning to lift into a smile. Booth leaned back in his chair and _Aha-_ed triumphantly.

"I saw that Bones!" he announced accusingly. "That was a smile, so you can stop pretending to be mad now."

He watched as she struggled to contain the smile that was creeping up on her face. Booth sighed with mock regret.

"You're making me take drastic measures Bones..." he told her gravely.

Quick as lighting, his hand darted behind Brennan's feet where she was hiding the bottle of wine under the seat. He held the bottle up and sloshed the liquid around.

"If you won't talk to me," Booth said, smiling as Brennan finally turned around and looked at him. "I'll just have to drink my boredom away."

Brennan tried to snatch the bottle, but Booth lifted it just out of her reach.

"Booth! I _promised_ Angela I'd bring her something back this time," she told him, still trying to grab the bottle.

Booth smiled openly at her, relieved she was talking to him again.

"I knew you couldn't resist me," he teased, dangling the bottle in front of her as one would a piece of string for a kitten.

Brennan made another futile attempt at reclaiming the bottle of wine, and Booth laughed cheerfully.

"Hand it over Booth!" Brennan demanded.

"Admit that I'm irresistible and I just _might_ consider handing it over," Booth replied, smiling in an obnoxious way he knew drove her up the wall.

Brennan glowered at him. Booth gave her a minute to process the request, and when she remained silent, he made to open the bottle.

"Stop Booth!" Brennan exclaimed.

Booth smiled a toothy grin.

"Say it..." he said, drawing out the syllables.

She wrinkled her nose and twisted her mouth in the manner she always did when she didn't get her way. Booth grinned and waited patiently.

"You're irresistible Booth," she grumbled.

Her hand again reached out for the bottle. Just as her fingertips grazed the bottom, Booth yanked it out of reach once more.

"Come on Booth!" she growled, shoving his knees in frustration. "You promised you'd give it back if I said it..."

Booth shook his head and waggled a finger at her.

"I believe I said I'd _consider_ giving it back," he corrected her. "I did consider it, but I decided that you weren't convincing enough."

Brennan rolled her eyes.

"So what can I do to convince you?" she asked dryly, humoring him.

Booth tapped his chin, pretending to be deep in thought.

"How about an Eskimo kiss?" he suggested lightly.

"What?" Brennan bleated.

Her response was enough to make Booth's grin widen even more.

"Yup Bones," he said with certainty. "I want an Eskimo kiss. This will fit perfectly into your happy little Eskimo fantasy..."

Brennan put her hands on her hips and gave him a pointed stare.

"That's _your_ fantasy Booth," she told him.

Booth shrugged and smiled at her as he challengingly dangled the bottle of wine above her head. He watched as the annoyance and playful banter on Brennan's face faded. Booth felt his grin weaken slowly as Brennan stepped over her own seat to kneel on the edge of his. She placed one hand gently where Booth's neck met his shoulders and the other lightly grazed the stubble on his jaw.

Booth felt his pulse quicken. Her face came closer to his. Almost without any conscious involvement, his free hand tangled in her hair. Brennan stopped mere centimeters away. Booth could feel her breath puff against his lips. Suddenly Booth was unaware of anything except for the slightly parted lips that were almost brushing his own.

Then inexplicably, those exact lips stretched out in a victorious grin. Brennan pulled back an inch and wiggled her nose playfully against Booths. Her right hand reached up and removed the bottle of wine from Booth's slackened grip. In shock, Booth watched as Brennan casually scooted back into her own chair and stored the bottle back where she had it before.

Jaw slack, Booth gave Brennan an incredulous look.

"What?" she asked innocently. "Isn't that what you asked for?"

Booth's look of surprise and bewilderment melded into one of suspicion. His eyes narrowed at Brennan.

"Don't give me that," he said, his voice coming out husky as a result of his suddenly dry mouth. "You know _exactly_ what you just did."

Brennan merely shrugged and tried not to look too pleased with herself. _Before we're through with this..._ Booth vowed to himself,_ I'm going to get her back for that. _Satisfied with this thought, Booth ran his hands over his face in an attempt to rub off the lingering feeling of Brennan's face so close to his. Otherwise, his brain wouldn't be capable of forming a single comprehensible thought. That was twice he almost kissed her in the past hour. There was no way he was going to survive being trapped in an SUV with her for much longer.

"Booth," Brennan said, tugging on his sleeve to get his attention. "It's getting stuffy in here; we should open the windows again for ventilation."

_Windows..._Booth thought. _A safe subject...Thank God._

"Open them?" he asked. "Isn't it still storming outside?"

Brennan shrugged.

"It was still snowing and icing pretty badly when I went out," she replied. "But we can use our spare clothes to make a barrier so that air can get in but the snow can't."

She grabbed a t-shirt out of her bag to demonstrate with her window. Getting the gist of it, Booth dug through his own bag and rigged the windows on his sides.

"Ugh," he said, plopping down on his seat. "Now we're letting cold air in. Can't we turn on the heat or something?"

Brennan slapped his hand away from the ignition.

"Not unless you want to die from carbon monoxide poisoning," she told him poignantly. "Besides, you were right about the Eskimo thing- we shouldn't be worrying too much about the cold."

Booth looked at her blankly.

"We shouldn't worry about the cold?" he asked flatly, disbelievingly.

"Probably not," Brennan said lightly. "We're out of the wind and surrounded by snow. The insulation should prevent heat loss but..."

She trailed off.

"But what?" Booth prompted, motioning for her to continue.

"A lot of factors play into hypothermia," she explained. "We should avoid getting wet, falling asleep, and becoming dehydrated. But that doesn't mean we can drink Angela's wine."

She gave Booth a sharp look. He pouted.

"Come on Bones," he whined. "Alcohol makes you warm inside."

"It makes you _feel_ warm, Booth." she corrected. "In reality, becoming intoxicated is the worst thing we could do right now."

Booth grudgingly agreed with her. There was the whole hypothermia thing, but at the same time, Booth figured if he couldn't control himself sober, he'd be out of luck after half a bottle of wine.

"So what should we do then?" Booth asked.

Brennan hesitated a minute before answering.

"We should stay in the SUV as much as possible," she said slowly. "Since we don't have any of our snow gear anymore, our best bet is to wait for someone to see the flare."

"Told you we should have bought the parkas," Booth mumbled.

Brennan shook her head.

"No you didn't Booth," she reminded him defensively. "We both agreed that it'd be stupid to spend so much money on something we'd only use this once."

Booth sighed and leaned against his window.

"Well then," he relented, "we shouldn't have given them back to the rental place until after we arrived at the airport."

Brennan didn't reply. She leaned against her own window, facing Booth. They sighed simultaneously.

"I just hate sitting around waiting," Booth said quietly.

She nodded in agreement and they fell into silence again. With the windows open several inches, they could now hear the wind whistling outside. Ice pellets hit against the feeble barriers they had put up, but luckily no moisture came through. Brennan closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh air coming in. She suddenly realized how tired she was.

"Hey Booth," she called out, sitting up. "We should take turns getting some sleep."

He looked at her confusedly.

"I thought you said you aren't supposed to sleep when you're hypothermic," he recited slowly.

"I did say that," she agreed. "But we aren't hypothermic so... we should sleep while we still can."

Brennan did have a point. It had been over twenty-four hours since the two had slept. Their rescue could take another twenty-four hours or longer. If staying awake was difficult now, it would be impossible by then.

"You sleep first," he told Brennan, handing her a blanket. "I'll keep an eye on you."

She conceded and reclined her chair, curling up on her side under the blanket.

"No longer than three hours," she warned Booth through a yawn.

He nodded and switched off the ceiling light, plunging the SUV into darkness.

* * *

**Author's note:** Thanks again to those who reviewed. Special thanks to those who pointed out snow's special insulating properties lol. Oh yea, and I now have anonymous reviews activated.


	4. Chapter 4

Nearly three hours later, Booth's boredom was being satisfied only by the fact that he could now stare at Brennan without her conscious awareness. It had only taken a few short minutes for his eyes to adjust to the darkness in the SUV and Brennan's pale face was easily discernible. The only sounds were of the storm outside and his partners soft breathing. The soothing sight of her sleeping face and the sounds of her even breaths were enough to lull him into a daze but he shook his head, trying to snap himself out of it.

He eyeballed his wristwatch, realizing it was about time to wake Brennan up and take his turn sleeping. Still, it was rare that he got the chance to see his partner so vulnerable and uninhibited, so he delayed waking her up another minute or two. She was a surprisingly quiet and peaceful sleeper. Her hands were curled under her and her features were completely relaxed in a neutral expression. Booth reached out and rested his fingers on her cheek then her forehead, checking her temperature. She still felt reasonably warm. He allowed his fingers to linger on her face a little longer than necessary.

A huge yawn split his face and he realized he'd better wake her up before he too fell asleep and put both their lives in danger. Regretfully, he placed his hand on her shoulder and gently shook her.

"Hey Bones," he whispered, leaning in. "Wake up, it's been three hours."

She mumbled something incoherent and shifted slightly but otherwise, was without response.

"Come on Bones..." Booth said louder, giving her a more persistent shake. "You gotta get up now."

Slowly, her eyes opened and she hauled herself into a sitting position, the blanket falling off her shoulders. Booth watched as she rubbed her eyes with her fist, much like a child would, then blinked blearily at him. It seemed to take her a minute to collect her thoughts and remember where she was.

"You awake now?" Booth asked her.

"Yea," she responded groggily, her voice even smokier than usual.

Trying not to appear too obviously enraptured by Brennan's sexy just-woke-up countenance, Booth quickly reclined in his chair, turning the opposite way.

"Guess it's my turn then," he said hastily. "Night Bones."

Seeming to suddenly become her alert self, Brennan shook her head and grabbed the lever to Booth's chair, causing him to snap up uncomfortably.

"Ouch Bones..." Booth complained, glaring. "What was that for?"

"It's been over four hours Booth," she said sensibly. "Our flare is probably out."

Groaning as he accepted the truth of her statement, Booth sat up fully and rubbed his hands over his face. He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out the flares and lighter.

"We should try putting it closer to the road this time," he said. "I'll do it this time."

Brennan smirked and crossed her arms.

"You can try," she told him lightly.

Booth ignored her and pulled the barrier of t-shirts off his window, examining the narrow gap that the snow allowed him. He rubbed his hands together in preparation and then brashly stuck his head through the gap. He pushed as hard as he could, but no matter what he did, his shoulders were not going to squeeze through. Booth reemerged into the SUV, breathing heavily, bits of snow in his thick hair. Brennan's shoulders were shaking in silent laughter.

"Alright, alright," he grumbled crossly. "You'll have to do it again."

She reached happily for the flares, but he refused to hand them over yet.

"This time you're wearing my FBI jacket," he commanded sternly. "It's waterproof."

Brennan rolled her eyes but conceded, climbing in the backseat to dig it out of Booth's bag. When she climbed back into the front, the FBI jacket was zipped up to her chin, the bottom reaching halfway down her thighs.

"Better?" she asked sarcastically.

"Hood up," Booth replied, his voice critical.

She jerkily yanked the hood of the sweatshirt up, and awaited his approval. He nodded and handed over the flares.

"Be quick," he told her softly.

"I will," she promised. "Could you give me a boost out?"

Booth nodded and waited for her to stick her body out as far as she could without assistance. He cupped his hand under her foot, lifting it up and giving her something to push off of. Booth braced himself as Brennan tensed against his hand and pushed herself the rest of the way out the window.

Anxiously, Booth pressed his face against the glass, his eyes level with the small opening. He quickly backed down as he realized he wouldn't be able to peer out without getting ice and snow in his eyes. He leaned back into his seat, fidgeting impatiently.

The minutes felt like hours to Booth as he waited for Brennan to return. _Hurry up Bones..._ he thought worriedly, urging her to appear at the window. Just as he was considering digging through the ice with his bare hands to go after her, the bottoms of her black boots appeared at the window.

Her bottom half dropped down onto the seat and Booth quickly leaned over to help, looping his arms around her waist and tugging gently. It took a minute, but eventually she fell through, collapsing into her seat, shaking and gasping for breath.

Brennan's jeans were soaked through and through and snow sparkled in the folds of the FBI jacket. Again, her lips were taking on a bluish tinge and her face was white as a sheet.

"I c-couldn't f-find the r-r-road," she stuttered through chattering teeth. "I p-put it out as f-f-far as I c-could..."

Booth hushed her quickly.

"Shh, it's okay Bones," he said soothingly. "Hurry up and take off the wet clothes."

Brennan fumbled to comply, but her shaking hands were unable to unzip the jacket.

"I got it Bones," Booth stopped her quickly, pushing her icy hands away.

He unzipped her hastily, tugging her arms out of the sleeves and throwing the jacket out of the way. Noticing that her hood was also damp he grabbed the ends of the sweatshirt he had lent her and lifted it over her head. When his hands reached for the top button of her jeans, Brennan protested weakly.

"B-booth," she chattered warily.

He pushed her hands away firmly.

"Sorry Bones, but it's gotta be done," he said, sounding sincerely regretful for her sake.

Brennan closed her eyes and allowed him to proceed. Knowing that it humiliated her to be in such a compromising position, Booth respectfully adverted his eyes as he unbuttoned and unzipped his partner. As Brennan wiggled out of the wet jeans, Booth, feeling somewhat hot under the collar, silently prayed that Brennan wouldn't suddenly acquire the ability to read his thoughts.

Booth looked over at Brennan who now had her arms wrapped around her knees as she shivered, half-naked. Doing his best to keep his mind safely blank, Booth pulled off his own shirt.

"W-what are you d-d-doing B-booth?" Brennan questioned, watching him wide-eyed.

Booth worked hard to keep his face neutral.

"Skin-to-skin contact's the best way to get heat back into the body, right?" he said, proud of his ability to keep his tone sounding strictly business-like.

Brennan hesitated, but then took off her own shirt. Booth was surprised; he had figured she would need a little more convincing. Trying to pretend that this wasn't the strangest situation in which he had declothed in front of a woman, Booth stripped down to his boxers.

"C'mere," he said gruffly.

He grabbed Brennan's forearm and helped her into his seat beside him. For a second, Booth gasped as Brennan's body collided into his with a tangle of icy cold skin and pointy elbows and knees. Then after a little wiggling around, her body curved perfectly into his, just like he always imagined that it would. Booth quickly threw the blanket around both of them.

The combination of Brennan's freezing skin and close proximity was enough to make Booth significantly short of breath, but Brennan seemed to be adjusting the situation quite well. She quickly got over the awkwardness of the situation and pressed her face into Booth's neck, greedily stealing his warmth. In fact, Booth found that he was aware of nearly every inch of her icy skin that was touching his own, warmer skin.

Overcoming the initial shock, Booth placed both of his hands on her bare back, rubbing gently to restore some heat. _Don't try to warm the limbs..._ Booth vaguely recalled from his military training. _This could cause cold blood to flow into the heart and cause cardiac arrest._ After a few minutes, Booth no longer felt like he was holding a Brennan-Popsicle in his arms. Brennan relaxed, her teeth no longer chattering and Booth let his hands fall still where they were resting on her back.

"Better?" he asked, speaking to the top of Brennan's head.

Brennan's eyelashes tickled the skin of his neck as he felt her nod.

"Good," Booth replied.

Now that Brennan was restored to a relatively safe temperature, Booth felt relaxed enough to reap his revenge for Brennan's Eskimo kiss. He momentarily removed one hand from Brennan to reach for the lever by the seat and fully reclined the chair.

"Booth!" Brennan said in surprise.

Cheerfully ignoring her, Booth shifted so that he was using his partner as a combination pillow and teddy bear. She weakly tried to struggle away, but the harder she struggled, the tighter he held her.

"My turn to sleep," he announced, smiling to himself.

As he closed his eyes, he felt Brennan sigh, giving up the fight. He smiled to himself, resting his cheek against the space of soft skin between Brennan's collar bone and breasts. _Revenge is sweet..._ he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

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**A/N: Is that enough snuggling for you people? Geez lol. Again, thanks for reviewing.**


	5. Chapter 5

Brennan sighed and as she did so, she felt the weight of Booth's head heavy on her chest. As it turned out, Booth was a remarkably heavy sleeper. Though he didn't snore, his breath was hot on her skin and the stubble on his chin tickled as he unconsciously moved his head around to find a more comfortable position.

She rolled her eyes as, yet again, sleeping Booth decided that the most comfortable position would be his face buried in her cleavage. Mumbling under her breath about Booth's unnaturally big head, Brennan used both arms to pick his head up off her breasts and into a less embarrassing position. Sick of hauling his heavy head up, Brennan kept her arms cradled around his head, keeping it from moving.

It occurred to Brennan that it should perhaps feel a little bit odder to be lying with her partner like this. They were both stripped down to their underwear, Booth on top, his torso firmly pressed against hers. His muscled arms held her closely around the waist and now she was the one with her fingers in Booth's thick hair, holding his head to her chest.

_What are we doing?_ Brennan wondered for the thousandth time. _We're partners, we work together. _

But for once in her life, Brennan told that little voice inside to give it a rest. If she really needed an excuse, she could always remind herself of the benefits of sharing body heat in situations dealing with hypothermia. She nodded to herself and curled her legs, which were beginning to feel cold again, into Booth's.

Booth mumbled incoherently in his sleep and Brennan felt a tiny smile tug at the corner of her lips. Despite his annoy habit of burying his face into her cleavage, Brennan had to admit Booth was adorable when he was asleep. Who knew that the big bad FBI agent was so cuddly? Brennan left herself a mental memo to tease him about it later.

Without really thinking about it, Brennan began to stroke Booth's short, thick hair. Inside, confusion twisted her stomach and made a lump in her throat. No matter what she told herself, they were no longer holding one another to conserve body heat. Booth was acting out his revenge on her, but deep down she knew if she really wanted him off, she could easily wiggle away or wake him up and force him to move.

Even so, she had no desire to move away. Booth's body felt right against hers and for once it felt good to do what she wanted. She was sick of holding back. What's more, she was sick of Booth holding back. It was like they took turns balking from one another. One day she's running away from any sort of emotional involvement and the next, he's talking about lines they can never cross.

A shiver passed through Brennan as Booth shifted slightly, causing his lips to brush across her collar bone. Everything suddenly felt like too much for her, and she turned her face to the window, staring at the white wall of snow. Alone together in the buried SUV, it felt like there was no outside world, and all the stupid reasons she had ever run from Booth, and all the ridiculous reasons he had ever held back from her, seemed meaningless and wrong.

Just as the thought crossed her mind, she felt Booth's breathing pattern change and realized he was beginning to wake up. She gingerly removed her arms from his head, allowing him to shift his weight off of her, curling beside her instead; his head now even with her own. Still barely waking, he pulled Brennan closer, tucking her into his side.

Slowly, his eyes opened.

"Hey," he muttered groggily, tilting his chin to look down at the woman in his arms.

Brennan looked back at him with serious eyes.

"Hey," she replied softly.

As Booth returned to the world of the waking, he sensed a degree of turmoil within his partner. She was holding him as tightly as he was holding her but her eyes were stormy and the corners of her mouth were pointed downward. Booth knew Brennan well enough to be able to tell she was thinking about something important.

"You warm now?" Booth asked her.

Brennan closed her eyes and nodded, listening to the rumbling of Booth's voice in his chest momentarily cover up the sound of his heartbeat. She felt him shift slightly, seeming uncomfortable with her silent response.

"Do you…" he began tentatively, "want to move?"

Brennan shook her head and she felt Booth fall still again. She allowed her hand to rest on Booth's chest and lightly traced the bruise left on it from the seatbelt. Booth's muscles tensed under her hand and she heard a tiny hitch in his breathing.

"We were lucky," she remarked quietly, not stopping her gentle hand motions.

"Yea," Booth said, his voice sounding lower than normal.

She let her hands fall still and placed her chin on top of them, peering up at Booth. His face was solemn and reflective as he looked back at her. Brennan closed her eyes. She could still feel Booth's eyes on her. It seemed as though he was always watching her.

His hand lightly cupped her cheek and she smiled reflexively. Despite the cold, a warm feeling enveloped her. This was the man that had saved her life multiple times. The one she had lied to the FBI for, the one she had shot a man for. He held her when she was scared, and what's more, she allowed him to see her fear.

The warm feeling was suddenly replaced with frustration. If all of that was so, then why was their relationship so difficult? Why did they tip-toe around one another as if on ice? Brennan knew the reasons deep down, but now, with Booth's warm body under her and his hand on her cheek, she could care less. She was sick of them dancing around their mutual attraction and affection.

For once in her life, Brennan wasn't thinking. She opened her eyes slowly and looked up at Booth. He was watching her with the same tender eyes he had always watched her with, and when he saw that her eyes were open, he gently stroked her cheek with his thumb. Without rationalizing, without any sort of thought process, Brennan leaned up and brushed her lips against Booth's.

There was a moment's pause during which their lips hovered mere centimeters apart and their heartbeats were almost audible in the silent SUV as both battled with restraint. But the moment was short-lived.

Before either could protest, Booth captured Brennan's lips again, tangling one hand in her hair and splaying the fingers of his other hand against her bare back. In his mind he dimly registered that he was finally kissing Brennan the way he had always wanted to, but then her body shifted against his in a delightful way and he found that his mind was too consumed by her to form a solid thought.

Booth broke the kiss momentarily to flip-flop their positions so Brennan no longer had to hold herself up. Brennan let out a slight gasp as she suddenly found herself sandwiched between the car seat and Booth's body and Booth took advantage of her momentary distraction by trailing kisses up her neck to her jaw line.

Brennan moaned softly and guided his lips back to hers. Booth found that his hands had a mind of their own, and Brennan seemed to be having a similar dilemma. Her hands were soft as they explored the expanse of Booth's muscled back and Booth found that the rest of her skin was equally soft as he trailed down her sides.

As Booth came up for air, he glanced down at Brennan, and it was then, that his brain regained basic functioning. He saw her below him, hair mussed, cheeks flushed, eyes dark with desire. But at the same time, he saw a thousand images of her in his mind; Brennan tied up in a warehouse, Brennan confused and battered in New Orleans, Brennan crying into his shoulder at McVicker's farm, Brennan staring at him in shock after she killed a man, Brennan gasping for air as he unearthed her from the ground, Brennan laughing, Brennan crying…

A lightening bolt of panic shot through him. This was _Bones_. The woman whose fingertips were slightly under the waistband of his boxers and whose bra straps Booth had begun to slip off her shoulders was Bones. This was the woman he'd die without and he was now on the brink of risking everything they had together.

Booth took a shaky, ragged breath.

"Bones…" he began in a low, croaky voice he barely recognized. "We can't-"

Booth watched as Brennan's face bunched up in a mixture of frustration, anger, and exasperation. When her hands pushed him off of her, they were surprising gentle considering the degree of emotion on her face. She slipped out of his arms and back into her own seat, where she sat facing him with her legs tucked under her and her arms crossed.

Booth's body immediately mourned the loss of Brennan's and Booth maneuvered himself into an upright position, placing his face in his hands and groaning softly. Now that the more rational side of his brain had won over, it backed down, leaving the rest of his brain reeling in disgust for Booth's actions. He was tempted to forget everything and pull Brennan back over, but when he looked over to her icy eyes, he realized that was no longer an option.

"Look Bones," he said urgently, his voice still husky with desire. "I just…"

Booth paused, trying to find the words for what he wanted to say, but Brennan jumped in before he could find them.

"I know Booth!" she exploded, voice teetering between sheer frustration and defeat. "I know the little reasons and excuses we always tell ourselves and I'm sick of it. I want out of this damn SUV now."

Her eyes flashed. She was frustrated sexually and emotionally and her only outlet was to lash out in anger. Two could play at that game.

"Well you can't get out," Booth retaliated, his voice rising in volume. "Do you think I want to be in here either?"

Brennan stiffened and pointed her finger at him.

"You don't get to be angry Booth. This is all your fault," she remarked accusingly.

Booth gave her an astonished look.

"What's my fault?" he asked angrily. "_You_ were the one that kissed me."

Rage flashed Brennan's expression and she leaned forward, getting in his face. Her eyes stared coldly into Booth's.

"Tell me you didn't want it then," she said challengingly.

Booth paused for a second, considering her.

"I did want it," he replied quietly.

Brennan leaned back into her seat. There was less anger on her face, but Booth could tell she was still riled up. She crossed her arms across her chest and gave him a poignant glare.

"Then why'd you stop?" she questioned accusingly. "You always make this harder than it has to be."

Her hands motioned between them to indicate that she was talking about their relationship. Booth drew himself up defensively.

"_I_ make this difficult?" he asked incredulously. "You're the one always pushing people away."

His words seemed to have struck a nerve with Brennan, and her fists clenched by her side.

"Don't you dare put all of this on me Seeley Booth," she said lowly, dangerously. "I'm not the one who drew the line. That was all _you._"

Booth realized that she had a point, but refused to yield.

"Well, I'm not the one who crossed the line," he countered. "_That_ was all you."

Brennan laughed chillingly and rolled her eyes.

"Oh please…" she snapped. "You've been crossing that stupid line since the day you created it."

This too, Booth admitted to himself, was true. Unable to come up with a rebuttal, Booth allowed them to sink into an unhappy silence. He looked over at Brennan's angry yet vulnerable face and realized that this was all wrong. He internally fumbled for the words to make everything alright again.

"Bones… I'm sorry," he mumbled gently, unable to come up with anything better.

Booth's soft utterance seemed to take the fight out of Brennan. She leaned against her seat and sighed wearily, her face conveying exhaustion rather than rage.

"Don't be sorry Booth…" she told him tiredly. "I just don't know where we're going with all this anymore. Maybe I should be thanking you for stopping us. Maybe we were about to ruin everything."

Brennan fell into a miserable silence and Booth felt even more at unease. He noticed that Brennan's chin look wobbly and her eyes look moist. With a pang in his chest, Booth reached out to her. She flinched away as though avoiding the plague.

"Don't Booth," she warned sharply. "I can't do this anymore. I'm tired of the running and holding back… And I'm tired of feeling confused every time one of us crosses the line."

Booth let his hand fall, but Brennan still scooted as far away from him as possible.

"If you want to have a line Booth," she began, her voice thick with emotion. "Then _don't cross it._"

Brennan faced her back to him and Booth, feeling the worst he could ever remember feeling, watched her helplessly as she discreetly tried to wipe her cheeks.

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**A/N: That was a cheerful chapter, right? lol Thanks for reviewing, and just so you know, I edited chapter 2 to include a brief line about cell phones. Brennan and Booth's cell phones have no service, that's why they can't use them. Special thanks to the person that pointed that out to me. **

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	6. Chapter 6

As the temperature in the SUV became increasingly colder, Booth reflected bitterly that the temperature was beginning to match the atmosphere. It had been nearly an hour since Brennan had last spoken to him or looked at him. Meanwhile, Booth had been watching her helplessly, trying to formulate in his mind the words to make everything alright again.

It was a small consolation to Booth that Brennan was no longer crying. He wondered if she knew that not allowing him to comfort her was the worst punishment she could have given him. The unhappiness on her face was still upsetting him but he forced himself to give her space. Her chin rested on her knees and her face had a guarded look on it that suggested that any attempts at contact would not be well received at the moment.

Booth let out his breath in a ragged sigh as he noticed that Brennan's skin was covered in gooseflesh and her hands were clenched to keep them from trembling. They were both still in their underwear and Booth pondered dubiously if there was any possible way to tell Brennan to put her clothes back on without getting snapped at. Just as Booth was working up the courage to talk to Brennan, something happened that Booth never would have expected in a million years.

Brennan apologized.

"Listen Booth," she started out, turning to him in earnest. "I'm not angry with you or anything. I'm sorry I yelled. I was just… frustrated. I know there's something between us that we're going to have to talk about eventually, but right now I don't care what happens as long as we're still friends in the end. I don't want to lose you because of something like this Booth."

Brennan met his eyes for the first time an hour. Booth saw anxiety in her face as she stared at him, chewing her lip, and Booth felt his lips twitch up in a soft smile.

"You been rehearsing that in your head the past hour?" Booth teased gently.

An embarrassed smile crossed Brennan's face as she nodded, and Booth laughed, relief coursing through his body. Brennan recovered from her embarrassment quickly and assumed a clinical tone.

"Besides," she said matter-of-factly. "Now is not a good time for any sort of physical activities. The integumentary system produces sweat in response to physical exertion, the goal of which is to dissipate body heat through evaporation. In conditions such as these, the sweat can freeze or cause the body to become dehydrated, making the body more susceptible to hypothermia."

Booth stared at her in shock, before bursting out laughing again. This time Brennan joined in and Booth felt like he had regained a missing piece of himself. As their laughter died off, Booth looked at her affectionately.

"Well then," he told her softly. "I forgive you if you forgive me."

"It's a deal," Brennan agreed with a smile.

Booth basked in Brennan's smile for a moment, feeling the coldness that had gripped his heart the past hour, melt away. He hadn't lost his friend. A sudden realization swept through him and he turned to Brennan, his face serious.

"Look at us Bones," he said solemnly. "We crossed the line and we're still friends. We didn't ruin everything, we don't hate each other, the sky didn't fall on our heads…"

Brennan nodded in solemn agreement.

"Maybe when we get out of here, we should rethink some things," Booth concluded. "Maybe we were underestimating ourselves before. Maybe we could make this work."

They were both quiet as they pondered the possibility, the only sound being the slight chattering of Brennan's teeth. Alerted by the noise, Booth clapped his hands together, efficiently destroying the meditative atmosphere.

"Firsts things first," he said pertly. "Put some clothes on, Bones."

Brennan glared at him as he plopped her bag heavily into her lap.

"Come on Bones," he wheedled. "I'm sure you know the importance of insulation to prevent loss of body heat."

She grudgingly began digging through her bag for clothes.

"I hate it when you're right," she grumbled.

Booth barely restrained a self-satisfied smile as he pulled on clothes from his own bag. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Brennan pulled on jeans and a sweater, chastising himself for mourning the loss of half-naked Brennan. She looked over when she was fully dressed, and he could tell from the half-amused, half-reproachful look in her eyes that she knew he had been watching. Booth cleared his throat and quickly finished dressing.

"We should probably put something in our stomachs too," Brennan said briskly, happy to suggest it before Booth had a chance.

They both climbed into the back and sat their food supply between them, surveying it with unenthusiastic eyes. Brennan picked up the can of beans and examined it with distaste.

"How old are these Booth?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

Booth scratched his head embarrassedly.

"They've been in my FBI bag since…well since I've been in the FBI," he admitted.

Brennan sat the can down disgustedly.

"Come on Bones," Booth said, in defense of his can of beans. "Canned food doesn't go bad, right? It's just as good now as it was when it was bought."

"You eat it then," Brennan said with a challenging smile on her face. "I'll take the airline peanuts and Milkway bar."

Booth shook his head vehemently.

"No way Bones," he protested. "We split everything fifty-fifty."

He began divvying up the food. Brennan rolled her eyes as he carefully scrutinized the two pieced of the candy bar and then counted out the peanuts to make sure they had _exactly_ the same amount. He put the can of beans aside.

"We'll save these for when we're really desperate," he said, giving them a little pat. "For now… _bon appetite_ Bones!"

Stale candy bars and old peanuts had never tasted so good. Booth picked a hair and a bit of fuzz of his chocolate and smiled fondly at it. It felt like years ago that he and Brennan had eaten dinner back at the hotel. In fact, it felt like they had been holed up in their little SUV igloo for ages. When the two of them finished eating, they both took a swig of the flat, tasteless soda and sighed.

"I could go for a nice, juicy steak right about now," Booth groaned, pressing a hand to his stomach. "How about you?"

Brennan tilted her head as she considered his question.

"Vegetable lasagna…" she said decisively.

Booth made a face.

"What about a hot drink?" he suggested wistfully. "Bailey's hot chocolate…"

He sighed dramatically.

"I'd rather have tea," Brennan stated.

Booth shook his head regretfully.

"You just don't know how to live Bones," he said, shaking his head.

They fell quiet again and it struck them how little they could do in their current situation. Though he didn't let on to Brennan, Booth was beginning to feel anxious. It had been almost twelve hours since they had left their hotel and they were still trapped under the snow. Brennan seemed to sense his mood and she leaned in, frowning.

"I've been thinking Booth," she began warily. "All the flights have most likely been delayed by the storm. It could be a long time before anyone notices that we're missing."

Her eyes were wide as she said this and Booth reached out to pat her shoulder comfortingly, glad that she was allowing him to touch her again.

"Even so," he soothed. "Someone is bound to see the flares. All we can do now is keep putting them out and stay calm. Panicking never got anyone anywhere."

Brennan took a deep breath and nodded curtly.

"We should put another one out now. It's been over four hours."

Booth agreed, and grabbed the bag of flares as Brennan examined the windows. It seemed that the snow and ice were no longer falling, but the final accumulation of the snow ended mere inches from the top of the window.

"Booth," Brennan stated. "There's no way either of us are fitting through that gap."

Booth considered the situation thoughtfully, and then lit up two flares anyway.

"We'll both stick our arms out the window and throw the flares as far as we can," he decided.

They both completed the aforementioned task and then slumped back into their seats. They both were beginning to feel their own sheer helplessness. Booth hated the feeling more then anything. In his head, he began formulating a plan.

_If help doesn't come within the next four hours,_ he thought. _I'll bundle up, dig myself out, and go looking for help myself. Bones won't go for it, but that's the plan._

Satisfied, Booth took another swig of the stale soda. Brennan was beside him, folding the crinkly peanut wrapper into a tiny square. Her face was a mixture of worry and boredom, a reflection of Booth's exact feelings. Just as Booth was trying to remember whether or not he had a pack of cards handy, the overhead light in the SUV flickered and died, plunging the duo into complete darkness.

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**A/N: Not the longest chapter, nor the most exciting one, but I'm just trying to move things forward. I'm planning on two more chapters. Thanks again to everyone who reviewed. **

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	7. Chapter 7

As Booth dipped his fingers into the sticky can to dig out a handful of foul-tasting beans in the pitch blackness of the SUV, he realized that Brennan and he had reached an ultimate low. They were sitting side by side in the backseat, each with one hand wrapped around the can of beans. Booth had managed to open it with a knife, but messily so, and as they reached in to scoop out beans, they kept cutting their hands.

Booth flinched as Brennan made another gagging sound and he waited warily for the sound of vomit hitting the floor of the SUV.

"I'm fine," Brennan assured him when the sound never came.

She reached into the can to scoop out more beans.

"Are you sure you want to each more?" Booth asked nervously. "That's about the fourth time you've almost spewed everywhere."

Booth chewed his mouthful of beans. They weren't so bad really. Granted, he would kill for some of Brennan's macaroni and cheese right about now, but these beans were all he had to work with. He found that if one ignored the strong aftertaste of old cabbage and the tangy hint of rotten pork, the beans were actually pretty decent.

"I can't stop eating them," Brennan admitted. "I'm really hungry."

"Pretend you're at some foreign, exotic restaurant with weird food," Booth suggested. "It really helps."

Booth smiled when he heard Brennan's soft noise of skeptical amusement. He felt her hesitating in reaching for her next scoop of beans.

"Be honest Booth. Should I be worried about eating these beans? I mean, are you sure they're _supposed_ to taste like this?" she asked.

"You should definitely be worried Bones," Booth said, smiling wickedly. "You know what they say about beans…"

There was a brief moment of silence during which Booth could clearly visualize the blank stare that Brennan was currently giving him.

"No Booth, I don't know what they say about beans," she replied, sounding slightly concerned.

Booth sighed.

"You know…" he said conspiratorially. "Beans, beans, they're good for your heart. The more you eat them the more you…"

He trailed off and waited for any signs of recognition from Brennan. When he received none, he sighed and tried again.

"Beans, beans the magical fruit?" he asked, now beginning to feel slightly embarrassed.

Brennan seemed to be digesting his words.

"I don't know what you're talking about Booth," she confessed finally. "And there's definitely nothing magical about _these _beans."

She released her hold on the can of beans and began attempting to wipe her hands clean. Booth heard her swish some of the flat soda around in her mouth to try and rid herself of the lingering taste. He shrugged and finished the can off. As disgusting as the beans were, Booth couldn't help but mourn their loss as he tossed all that remained of their food supply under the car seat.

The temperature was on a definite decline. Snow was beginning to tumble in the open windows from outside and no matter how hard they attempted to avoid it, both Brennan and Booth had managed to get slightly damp. There was a gnawing anxiety in Booth's stomach, which he was positive wasn't all due to his consumption of old peanuts, stale candy, and bad beans.

"You cold Bones?" he asked softly, staring through dark in Brennan's direction.

She hesitated, but seemed to realize that even if he couldn't see her shiver, he could still hear her teeth chattering; lying would be pointless.

"Yes," she answered honestly.

Booth blindly reached out and finally located her shoulder.

"C'mere then," he said, tugging her towards him.

Brennan resisted, and when she spoke, her tone was cautionary.

"I don't know Booth…" she said.

Her words contained an unspoken warning: _remember what happened last time?_ Booth gulped. He remembered all too well. In any other situation, physical contact would be highly unadvisable if they wished to avoid another, similar scenario, but when it came down to it, Brennan's well-being took precedence over all. Booth assumed a light-hearted tone.

"Are you telling me you'd rather freeze to death than so much as touch me?" Booth asked, feigning hurt. "Ouch Bones, you really know how to deflate a guy's ego."

Silently accepting defeat, Brennan allowed him to pull her towards his larger, warmer body. As she settled in with her face in the crook of his neck, Booth reflected on how small the woman really was. She was tall, he'd give her that, but if he splayed his fingers, they spanned the entire width of her back. If there was one thing his partner lacked, it was body fat.

Her mind seemingly on a similar track, Brennan spoke up unhappily.

"You're warmer," she stated grudgingly. "It's not fair."

Booth ran his hands up and down her arms, attempted to restore some warmth in them.

"Yea well, at least I'm sharing the warmth here," he said lightly, hiding his concern.

Booth listened as Brennan began to babble about musculature and how men tended to produce more body heat than women. He knew she was rambling to avoid the other two, less comfortable venues of conversation: the topic of their relationship and the fact that their situation was becoming increasingly dire. He noticed Brennan stumbling over a few words and slurring a few others, and he immediately recognized the early signs of severe hypothermia. Unconsciously, he tightened his arms around her, fear gnawing at him.

He realized then that he would have to go out and try to find help. The only other option was to continue sitting in the SUV, waiting for someone to spot their flares. In a few hours, they would both be severely hypothermic. Brennan would die first. Booth felt vomit rise up his gorge at the thought and swallowed quickly, attempting to maintain calm. There was no other option. He wasn't capable of sitting around helplessly while Brennan's life was in danger. He'd get help for her, even though he was aware that it could be the last thing he'd ever do. It'd be worth it.

"You're not going to like this," Booth cautioned, interrupting Brennan's ramblings.

He felt her body stiffen against his. She didn't like it already. He continued.

"I'm going out," Booth told her. "The snow's stopped, so the snow emergency vehicles should be starting to clear the road. If I walk towards the airport, I'm bound to run into one sooner or later and then-"

"I'm coming too then," Brennan interrupted quickly.

Booth sighed, expecting this. Brennan's body was tensed up in anticipation of an argument. He rubbed her back soothingly in an attempt to calm her down.

"No you're not Bones," he told her softly. "As much as you hate to admit it, you're in more danger than I am. I have a much better chance out there. There's no room for argument here."

He knew that she hated him for that little piece of logic. It was the one thing she wouldn't argue against. He felt her back rise and fall as she let out a ragged breath. He let himself savor their closeness, promising himself it wouldn't be the last time he held her. He took a deep breath to brace himself before loosening his arms around her.

"Would you find the flashlight for me Bones?" he asked in voice of forced levity. "I'm going to try to layer up as much as possible."

Now with tasks to distract them, Brennan and Booth rummaged around the SUV. Booth put on shirt over shirt and pants over pants as Brennan focused a wobbly ray of light on him. Once he was dressed, they focused on the much more difficult task of digging up through the snow. After debating which approach would work best, they decided to have Booth chip away at the snow with the knife while Brennan pushed the loose snow out of the way with her shoes on her hands. Their technique turned out to be surprisingly effective, and when they were done, there was an opening to the outside just big enough for Booth to squeeze through.

Booth settled back into the seat for a second, adjusting his many layers of clothes.

"Here's what I'm going to do," he told Brennan, his voice adopting a tactical tone. "I want you to hold one end of the rope when I go out and I'll tie the other end to the guardrail up by the road. I'll set up the rest of the flares too, so I can find you after I get help."

With the help of the flashlight's meager light, Booth made out Brennan's weak nod. Attempting to recapture the fearless hotheadedness he had possessed in his early army days, Booth wrapped the blanket around himself to shield his face in preparation to go. He was stopped by Brennan's hand reaching out to grab his elbow.

"Booth wait!" she exclaimed.

Booth turned and to his surprise, she launched herself into his arms.

"I hate this," she confessed thickly, her voice muffled by Booth's many layers of clothing.

He stroked her hair, a sad smile on his face.

"I know you do Bones," he told her. "I know."

Booth gently loosened her arms from around him, hating himself for it. Brennan pulled back, but didn't let go of her ironclad grip on his forearm.

"Booth just promise me you'll-"Brennan began, her voice uncharacteristically anxious.

"I'll be back, okay Bones?" he interrupted quickly. "Everything is going to be fine."

Brennan slowly let go of his arm, her wide eyes reflecting the flashlight beam. Booth handed her an end of the rope.

"Now tie this around your wrist or something so it doesn't slip out of the SUV," he told her, tying the other end around his own.

She obliged and Booth grabbed the flares, squatting by the window he was going to go out.

"You know," Brennan said matter-of-factly. "Many Celtic wedding traditions involve the bride and groom being bound by a cord or rope to symbolize unity."

The comment was so inappropriate, so Brennan-like, that Booth couldn't help but chuckle. He turned back towards her, cupping her face in his hand and tenderly kissing her on the cheek.

"I guess I'm legally bound to come back then Bones," he told her, tracing her jaw line.

Her smile was faint but it was enough to remind Booth why it was absolutely necessary that he leave her immediately. He held her gaze for another second, multitudes of unspoken words building up between them. Brennan gave him a tiny nod and he let his hand fall. He felt her eyes on his back as he climbed out the window, leaving her alone in the dark SUV.

* * *

It was cold. It was really cold, so cold that it hurt. Booth held the blanket over his stinging face, squinting his eyes against the burning cold. He wasn't sure how long he'd been walking. It seemed like ages ago that he had set flares up outside the buried SUV and stumbled up the hill to tie his end of the rope to the guardrail. It seemed even longer ago that he had left Brennan.

He swore loudly as he nearly slipped on the surface of the icy snow. He had already fallen twice and the brutal wind cut through the damp portions of clothing as though he were wearing nothing at all. It was dark out, but there was a slight sliver of moon that reflected off the snow enough to allow him to see where he was going.

Booth's mind was beginning to feel as numb as his body. He felt slow and stupid, his motions uncoordinated like a drunks. Feeling a soothing wave of sleepiness tempting him, Booth fought to focus his mind. He was slowing rapidly.

_Think about Bones…_ he told himself through the haze that clouded his mind. _Think about Parker._

Conjuring up clear images of their faces in his mind, Booth managed to quicken his pace slightly. His breathing was rapid and exhausted and each breath was like daggers as he inhaled the icy air. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

When he opened his eyes, he thought momentarily that the cold had somehow caused him to go blind, as all could see was white light. But then his eyes adjusted and he realized that he could still see the snowy world around him. The light was coming from straight ahead of him.

Headlights, he realized numbly as he heard the slamming of car doors and the sound of men shouting. Dazed, he stared into the headlights. It wasn't until he felt hands on his arms yanking him to his feet that he realized he had fallen to his knees. Feeling tremendously confused, Booth allowed himself to be hauled into the seat of the snow plow.

The plow doors slammed shut and Booth was struck by the sudden absence of freezing air.

"You still with us man?" a gruff voice asked, shaking him roughly by the shoulder.

Booth fumbled in his mind for the words to reply.

"Uhh," he replied intelligently.

He felt himself being stripped of his outer, damp layer of clothing and then his body being manipulated into a thick coat, still warm from body heat.

"We need to get him to the hospital Pops," a young man's voice said. "He's barely conscious."

The older man gave a grunt of agreement and Booth heard the revving of the engine. A tendril of panic crept up Booth's chest. This was all wrong.

"Wait!" he choked, flinging his arm out.

The older man gasped as Booth's flailing arms knocked the breath out of him. The two men attempted to hold him down and calm him. Booth's tongue felt slow and heavy as he attempted to form the words.

"My partner," he gasped finally.

Exhausted with the effort, he slumped against the seat.

"What?" the old man bleated.

"Someone's still out there Pops," the other man said, sounding anxious.

Booth began to doze slightly as he felt the vehicle go forward in the correct direct, oblivious to the two men's attempts to keep him awake. When he saw the blurry lights of the flares against the white snow he smiled. He heard the door open and close as the younger man exited the vehicle to retrieve Brennan. Booth waited, fighting off the overwhelming urge to sleep.

The door opened once again, and the young man re-entered the vehicle alone.

"Where's Bones?" Booth asked, his voice slurred almost to the point of incoherency.

The young man shook his head slowly as he watched the stranger next to him fight unconsciousness.

"Turn around Pops," the young man said.

"Why?" the older man asked. "What about the other per-"

His son cut him off.

"The cold must be making him delusional," the son said. "There was no one in there."

* * *

**A/N: One more chapter to go baby!**


	8. Chapter 8

It had been a fairly slow night in the bright, clinically lit emergency wing of the hospital. Snow storms usually caused a few cases of frostbite and hypothermia to trickle through the doors of the ER, but they generally discouraged the hypochondriacs and over-protective mothers. Feeling somewhat restless, Dr. Bridgeman checked in on his few unhappy patients who were unable to leave due to the snowstorm. The patients responded to his attentions with cold glares, and the doctor quickly went off for coffee.

A huge yawn split his face, reminding him that his shift should have ended five hours ago. The boredom was eating away at him. He slumped down into a chair and contemplated taking a quick nap. Just as the cold metal table was beginning to look like a suitable pillow, Dr. Bridgeman heard the commotion.

Leaping to his feet, he jogged out into the corridor toward the nurse's station. The commotion was out of sight, around the corner, but the doctor could hear the sound of a few men shouting and a nurse screaming. He rounded the corner quickly, his feet almost falling out from under him in the process.

Two men were struggling to drag a third into the waiting room of the ER. They both had bloody noses and were cursing profusely as they avoided the aimless punches of the third man. He was considerably larger than the other two men, but seemed profoundly disoriented, giving the other two a slight advantage.

"Can we get some help over here Doc?" the young man with a bloody nose asked as a flailing arm hit him across the cheek.

As the doctor approached, the two men dropped the third one exhaustedly. His two supports suddenly missing, the third man stumbled clumsily, just barley managing to stay upright. It seemed to be a tremendous effort for him to focus his eyes on the doctor and his face was a mixture of extreme confusion and distress. The doctor flinched when the man lunged towards him, but he merely grasped the shoulders of the young doctor, leaning heavily on him.

"We have to go back," he said.

The man's voice slurred almost to the point of incoherency.

"Me and my son found him outside," the older man told the doctor as a nurse held an icepack to a bruise rising on his forehead.

"Snow's made him loopy," the son added, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The doctor's head swung back and forth as the man began to shake him.

"She's still- she's still," the man stuttered. "She's still out there…"

Dr. Bridgeman, beginning to feel a headache coming on, pried the man's hands off of him. He called to the nurse for a stretcher and attempted to coax the now swaying man into a chair. The man swatted his hand away violently and the doctor sighed, placing a placating smile on his face.

"Sir," he said slowly. "I know you're very confused right now, but you need immediate medical attention."

The man narrowed his eyes at the doctor.

"If you won't go look for her," he slurred, "then I will!"

With and unfocused glare, the man turned on his heels and stumbled into the wall. Dr. Bridgeman rushed forward as his patient collapsed into a heap on the floor. He pressed two fingers to the ice-cold skin of the man's neck. The pulse was weak but steady. There were no obvious signs of frostbite, but the man's state suggested his body temperature had reached a critical level.

The doctor sighed in relief as his stretcher arrived and the medical technicians manipulated his patient onto it. As he followed the stretcher down the hall his beeper went off. _Group of campers just arrived in ambulances. Severe frostbite, _it read. Dr. Bridgeman sighed. He would never complain of boredom again.

* * *

Booth woke up in a profound state of confusion. He vaguely sensed needles in his arm and heating pads on top of him. The sensation of being warm was oddly foreign to him. He opened his eyes into narrow slits and saw a clean, white, sterile room. A hospital. He was in a hospital.

Terror ripped through his chest and he sat up suddenly. The heated blankets fell off his chest and his head exploded in a horrible headache. Groaning loudly, Booth's hands flew to his temples as he attempted to rub the headache away. Unfortunately, even the pain wasn't enough to take his mind off the overwhelming sense of failure and despair.

His eyes darted around the room and finally settled on a clock mounted on the wall. Twelve hours… it had been twelve hours since he left Brennan alone in the SUV. Desperately, Booth searched his memory. He fuzzily recalled being rescued. Why hadn't they gone back for Brennan?

The horrible sentence came back to him. _There was no one in there._ Booth held his head in his hands as his mind raced frantically. How was that possible? Surely Brennan wouldn't have left the SUV… Perhaps his mind had been so affected by the cold during his rescue that he had imagined going back to the SUV and finding it empty.

"Impossible," Booth whispered to himself, remembering all to well the anguish and denial that had ripped through him despite his altered state of mind.

Booth sat on his bed helplessly, his mind reeling. He barely noticed as a nurse strolled in, chatting cheerfully and checking his vitals.

"I see you're finally up!" she pronounced briskly. "I hope you're feeling better than you were last night. You put up quite the fuss! We had to treat the two men that brought you in. You broke both their noses!"

She made a loud tutting noise and reached up to check his saline bag.

"Now that you're awake, I can get you some warm broth and paperwork," she told him amiably. "I know the paperwork isn't so exciting, but it's necessary. You were so far gone last night that we were unable to even get your name."

The nurse finally stopped in her bustling around and chattering to take a proper look at her patient's face. The turmoil and despair etched across Booth's features caused her to stop in her tracks.

"Now, honey, what's wrong?" the nurse asked, perching herself on the edge of the bed.

Booth couldn't find words to describe to the friendly-faced nurse exactly what was going on inside him at the moment. How could he convey in words the fact that he had no idea where Brennan was or if she was even alive? This wasn't like the case with Kenton where Hodgins had helped him break out of the hospital; he was helpless and useless to Brennan at the moment. The knowledge was killing him.

The nurse worriedly patted his hand.

"How about I get the doctor?" she suggested, standing up.

Booth eyes snapped back to the nurse, suddenly seeing her in a new light- a source of information.

"Wait!" Booth exclaimed, his voice raspy from dryness and emotion.

The nurse jumped, surprised to hear him talk. Booth swallowed and attempted to moisten his lips. His heart thudded in anticipation of asking the question although he already knew the answer.

"Was there…" he began. "Was there anyone else brought in with me?"

Looking slightly bewildered, the nurse shook her head.

"You were brought in alone," she told him. "I doubt those men could have handled anyone else with the way you were carrying on. You kept telling them to go back."

Anger blossomed in Booth's chest.

"That's because my partner was still out there!" he shouted. "Those bastards left her out there!"

Booth breathed heavily for a second, before his body sagged slightly and his anger dissipated.

"I left her out there," he said softly, dejectedly.

The nurse, who had backed away in fear when Booth had yelled, now approached again, taking pity on Booth's guilty sorrow. Again, she sat on the edge of Booth's bed, giving him a sad smile.

"You were in a bad state," she told him gently. "You're lucky that you managed to save yourself."

Booth shook his head. None of it mattered unless Brennan was okay. Anguish clawed at him, but he forcibly pushed it away. He couldn't allow himself those feelings yet, not unless he was positive. The pain would kill him.

"Were there any others brought in last night?" Booth asked the nurse with an unsteady voice.

The pleading tone that had crept into Booth's voice caused the nurse's eyes to moisten slightly. She patted him consolingly on the hand again and grabbed a pen and a pad of paper.

"Of course there were others brought in," she soothed. "Now is it your wife you're looking for?"

Booth shook his head.

"No," he replied. "It's my partner… I'm with the FBI. Special Agent Seeley Booth."

The nurse nodded and wrote it down on the pad of paper.

"And her name?" the nurse inquired when she finished writing.

"Temperance Brennan," Booth said, emotion flaring as he spoke her name aloud.

As the nurse carefully annotated her name, Booth couldn't help but feel like her name alone wasn't enough. What if like him, she had been unconscious when brought in? Booth began talking again, his voice increasing in speed and emotion.

"She's tall," he blurted. "And thin. Bluish-green eyes. She… her hair. Um it's brown, kind of reddish? And sort of curly too. Especially when it's messy."

He fumbled in his mind for more information to help the nurse find his partner.

"She has a scar on the back of her neck, from a burn. It looks like… um two circles?"

The nurse continued writing, and Booth continued speaking, almost unable to stop herself.

"She has a PhD in forensic anthropology so make sure you call her 'Doctor' and not 'Miss' because that can really get her going," he rambled. "She can be really stubborn and bossy… she definitely won't be happy to be in the hospital. She's very independent… strong too, you know? And really, really pretty."

By now the nurse's eyes were definitely moist and Booth adverted his eyes, somewhat embarrassed. The nurse had filled up two pieces of the paper with Booth's description. She gave him a soft smile before preparing to leave.

"I'm going to fax this around the hospital, okay hon?" she said quietly. "Then I'll come back with your broth and paperwork."

Booth nodded, too worked up to give her a proper thank you. He lay back down in his bed, preparing to play the most tortuous game of all- the waiting game.

* * *

It was about an hour later when Doctor Bridgeman walked into Booth's room to introduce himself. He shook Booth's hand and gave him a friendly smile, but his eyes were reproachful.

"You seemed to have survived your collision with the wall last night," the doctor told him with dry humor. "And your temperature has finally returned to the scale of what we in the medical field call normal. We'll be keeping you until you maintain that temperature for another two hours, and then-"

Unable to listen any longer, Booth interrupted.

"Did you find Bones?" he asked abruptly.

The doctor gave him a blank stare.

"Excuse me?" he questioned, lifting an eyebrow and wondering if perhaps the wall collision did cause some damage.

"My partner," Booth clarified. "Temperance Brennan."

The reproachful look returned to the doctor's eyes, and Booth realized with a sinking feeling what they must mean.

"You didn't find her," Booth stated flatly.

Doctor Bridgeman sighed.

"No we didn't," he conceded, not without sympathy. "None of our patients came close to matching your description."

The doctor watched as his patient seemed to wilt in his bed, his brown eyes clouding over. Doctor Bridgeman had told countless patients that they were going to die or that someone dear to them had died, but he found himself momentarily speechless at the raw emotion in this man's eyes. He searched himself for the right words.

It was then, that the nurse rushed into the room, her face alight with excitement. She grasped in her hands a piece of paper so tightly that it had wrinkled.

"Doctor Bridgeman!" she exclaimed.

She skidded to a stop in front of him and handed him the fax. His eyes skimmed it and a weight lifted from his shoulders.

"It's from the shock trauma hospital on the other side of town," he mumbled, a grin starting to work its way up his face. "Agent Booth, listen to this."

He began reading the fax.

"_We have a patient lifted in by __MediVac__ searching for a Special Agent Seeley Booth. Described as brown hair, brown eyes, tall, large __frame, big head, carries a gun."_

Booth lifted his eyes, hope bubbling up.

"Does…" he said, his voice beginning to strengthen, "does it say her name?"

Both the nurse and the doctor smiled at him.

"No," the nurse answered gently. "Doctor-patient confidentiality forbids it, but who else would it be?"

Soothed by this, Booth gave the doctor and the nurse the first smile they'd ever seen on his face.

"Well when can I go then?" he asked eagerly, already trying to get out of the bed.

The doctor put out a hand, stopping him.

"Not quite yet," he said amusedly. "As soon as your temperature has remained stable for a solid two hours we'll discharge you."

Booth's face was disappointed, but he still could not quite keep the grin off of it. A sudden thought seemed to occur to him, and he turned to Doctor Bridgeman and the nurse, an injured look on his face.

"Big head?" he asked sullenly.

Hiding their grins, the doctor and nurse hurried out of the room.

* * *

Yet another hour passed, and Booth had been measuring his temperature as diligently as the nurse. Whenever it dropped even a hundredth of a degree, he asked for hot tea or broth and gulped it all down as quickly as possible. He was determined to leave the hospital.

It was when he was studiously watching his thermometer that he heard a tiny, amused cough.

His head snapped up, and for a moment, he literally felt time stand still. Brennan was standing near the foot of the bed, smiling widely, whole and unharmed. She was looking at him as though she had never expected to see him again.

"Well?" she said softly.

The single word brought Booth back to Earth, and he leapt out of bed, laughing like a kid. He ran over to her and lifting her up, swinging her around and around, shouting her name happily. She protested just as loudly, demanding to be put down, but as she too was laughing, Booth ignored her.

"Booth," she proclaimed breathlessly. "You do realize that the hospital gowns are backless?"

This was what finally caused Booth to stop. He sheepishly sat Brennan back on her feet and hid his bare behind by returning to his hospital bed, shielding himself with the blankets. Regardless, he couldn't stop smiling and his eyes never strayed from Brennan.

"You're okay," he said softly, indicating the spot on the bed next to him.

She sat and gave him a stern look.

"Of course I'm okay!" she told him, her voice surprisingly tearful. "The helicopter came a couple hours after you left… I told them to go back out but they never found anyone. I thought…"

She stopped and took a shuddering breath.

"I got picked up by a snow plow," he told her. "I thought the same thing Bones."

She nodded, her throat too emotion-filled to speak. Still unable to tear his eyes away, Booth watched her, heart aching from the joy of seeing Brennan and the fear of what could have been. Acting on an impulse Booth gently tilted Brennan's face towards his with his fingertips and kissed her tenderly on the lips.

When the kiss ended, they held each other, holding on tightly to what they almost lost.

"I don't know what I would have done Bones," Booth admitted.

Brennan tightened her grip on him, burying her face into his shoulder. Booth stroked her hair, her back reveling in the fact that she was alive and well. When Brennan pulled back from the embrace, Booth gave her a teasing smile.

"So about this line business…" he began with false casualness.

Brennan gave him a sassy smile.

"What line?" she asked huskily, leaning forward.

Placing her hands on his chest she kissed him deeply, and Booth reciprocated enthusiastically. The kiss left them both breathless and smiling.

"That's what I thought," Booth said, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the door was shut.

* * *

An hour later, the nurse waltzed into Booth's room fully prepared to check his vitals and prepare him for discharge. But as she entered the room, the scene before her caused her to step back a second. Agent Booth and Doctor Brennan were both sound asleep in the hospital bed, curled around one another, their hair mysteriously tousled. Both their faces, even in sleep, radiated happiness.

Smiling to herself, the nurse quietly turned off the lights and exited the room.

* * *

**A/N: Well I actually finished it. Hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you again to everyone who has reviewed this story. And if you want more, sequels aren't really my thing but I think I might continue my other story Warning Signs since I've had some good ideas for it. It's been fun!**

* * *


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